The Greatest Hero of All Time
by xcorkx
Summary: Alfred Jones always knew he was different, it was evident in his super strength. When he goes to take hold of his destiny he finds more than he expected. A Hercules parody -JoKer- Collab with Spazzkitty
1. Prolouge

**A/N:**

**So it's Cork and Spazzkitty! Bringing you our 'Collab of Kick Assedness!' We're uber excited to bring this to ya, and we hope you enjoy it! We don't own Hetalia, the song lyrics, Hercules, or the characters. NO SUING FOR YOU. **

Prologue

You walk down a dusty hall; brushing your hand across the walls as you go, so as not to trip. Soon you find yourself drawn to a large vase. You pick it up, gently brushing the dust off to get a better look at what was painted on years ago.

"Well hello there! What brings you to our humble abode stranger?" A cheery voice asks. You blink once, then twice, but the image doesn't change. The vase has five figures painted on it, varying in height and appearance, and you could've sworn the one farthest to the right just spoke to you. "You haven't answered my question," the voice gently teases, and you're shocked to see the figure shift position so he's sitting cross-legged on absolutely nothing. "It's not often we find someone in these parts."

"Not often indeed," another voice echoes. The person to his left stretches as if he hasn't moved in a long time, then begins to swing his feet back and forth idly.

"Shut up, Sealand," pipes up a voice from near the back. The respective person turns and sticks out his tongue immaturely at the blonde lurking near the back.

"I'm rubber and you're glue-" Sealand begins before he too is interrupted.

"Ah, Switzerland! There you are! I knew you hadn't left me. You would have made me so lonely," He began, slowly turning around to talk to another in the very back trying to sneak off inconspicuously. "I don't like being lonely….. It makes me sad. Bad things happen when I'm sad." A smile still on his face, he didn't seem too upset by Switzerland trying to leave. "You don't want me sad, do you?"

At that moment Switzerland, obviously afraid of what 'bad things' would happen, turned around and begrudgingly walked back towards the other four. The figure in the middle stands up, coming alive slowly as well.

"You guys are so energetic, aren't you?" He says cheerfully. Sealand looks around, confused.

"Did you hear something, Spain?" He asks.

"Nothing," says the one furthest to the left. He seems to be the leader. He turns to you, smiling sunnily. "Hello, traveler. We are the muses, gods of the arts."

"I thought the muses were all girls," you remark, then instantly wish you hadn't said anything.

"A COMMON MISCONCEPTION!" Switzerland remarks loudly causing you to jump back, almost dropping the vase.  
"Don't drop us now!" Spain chides, slowly covering Switzerland's mouth with his hand from behind. "Would you like to hear a story?" He asks, completely ignoring Switzerland flailing about, trying to push Spain away.

"I could tell it!" Sealand shouts, raising his hand excitedly. Russia slowly turns his head, smiling at Sealand with that same blank face.

"You don't want to tell it. Do you, Sealand?" He asks getting a small, timid, 'Yes, Russia' in compliance.

"Why don't _I_ tell it?" Spain said, dropping Switzerland in his joy. "We don't get to tell the tale of the 'Greatest Hero of All Time' often enough!"

"That's because nobody ever comes here," Switzerland remarks dryly, rubbing the back of his head.

"Can I help tell it?" The blonde in the middle pipes up timidly.

"Has anyone seen Canada?" asks Sealand, not even hearing the 'I'm right here'.

"Canada can join us later," Spain says, eager to tell his tale.

"I'm right HERE!" Canada repeats. You're not sure whether to try to point him out, as nobody else seems to notice him. You smile sympathetically at him, which seems to cheer him up.

"Alright, well, our story takes place a long, long time ago…" Spain begins.

"Before indoor plumbing!" Sealand adds with an immature giggle. "There were no toilets or anything!" He shuts his mouth meeting with two irritated glares, a creepy smile, and a wave from Canada he doesn't even notice.

"A long, long time ago," Spain repeats. "Back when the world was new and the earth was inhibited by titans and the gods."

"They couldn't use the bathroom EVER, because there were no toilets," adds Sealand again, with a knowing nod. Switzerland gives him a wedgie, which will probably end the bathroom talk.

"Thank you, Switzerland. As I was saying…" Spain says, giving the other muses a warning glare.

"Back when the world was new

The planet Earth was down on its luck

And everywhere gigantic brutes

called Titans ran amok!" Spain sang, smiling.  
"Oh just great! We have to sing now?!" Switzerland snaps, taking a breath to protest further but was cut off by Russia and Sealand continue to the next verse with Spain.  
"It was a nasty place

There was a mess

whereever you stepped

Where chaos reigned and

earthquakes and volcanoes never slept!" Russia then looks over at

Switzerland.

"You do want to sing Switzerland, don't you?" He asked indirectly forcing Switzerland to join in on the next verse.

"And then along came Austria

He hurled his thunderbolt

He zapped

Locked those suckers in a vault

They're trapped

And on his own stopped

chaos in its tracks

And that's the gospel truth

The guy was too type A to just relax!"

"He sure as hell is," grumbled Switzerland, but Spain shoved him roughly (still with his grin on) into the next lines of the song.

"And that's the world's first dish

Austria tamed the globe

while still in his youth

Though, honey, it may seem imposs'ble

That's the gospel truth!"

"Why does Spain get so many solos?" complains Sealand in the middle of the song.

"Because he's the best singer!"

"Why isn't anybody answering me?"

"But- But I just did!"

Russia steps forward, beaming, and finishes the song himself.

"On Mt. Olympus life was neat and

Smooth as sweet vermough

Though, honey, it may seem imposs'ble

That's the gospel truth!"

The five muses bow and you place the vase on the floor so you can applaud.

"Thank you kindly, my friend!" says Spain delightedly.

"Why don't I ever get any solos?" whines Sealand, but he is ignored again.

"Anyway, now we need to get into our story. It starts on Mount Olympus, the home of the gods, on a very important day…"


	2. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

It is one of those stereotypically happy days up on Mt. Olympus. The sun is shining brightly, scattering light all across the clouds. A lone figure zips through the air, casting shadows onto the ground, only to get to the farthest section of the huge palace resting lightly on cloud tops. Finally she stops abruptly in front of three figures, the wings on her feet flapping furiously to keep her suspended in midair.

"Hello, Austria-sama," she says respectfully, bowing her head. "Hungary-sama, America-sama."

"Hello, Lichtenstein, dear," says the woman- Hungary- fondly cradling her newborn son in her arms. "You have a message for us, I assume?"

"Yes, Hungary-sama." The young messenger goddess unfolds a scroll, clearing her throat politely. "Prussia-sama, ruler of the underworld, sends his regards to 'the little shitbag' and fondly wishes for him to 'drop dead'. Will there be a reply?"

Hungary's face turns a vivid scarlet and she chokes out 'I'm going to kill him' before her husband places a restraining hand on her shoulder.

"Calm yourself, darling. Today is a happy day," he reminds her. She takes a deep breath and smiles brightly.

"You're absolutely right. No reply, Lichtenstein." The young blond girl bows again, her hands clasped behind her back. Then she turns and flies off, expertly dodging the marble columns placed tastefully around the home.

Hungary looks around; then down at her son she smiled. "Everyone will like you." She tells the infant smiling. "Would you like to know why?" Her question needs no reply as she looks up at her husband. "He'll be gay; just like you were supposed to!" The sunny statement was filled with anger directed towards Austria who could only sigh in reply.  
"Must you predetermine these things?" He asks only making her giggle and walk away, whispering to the child about how he must become what she always wanted his father to be. Austria, now thoroughly aggravated lets out deep breath.  
"Something wrong dear?" She asks as if nothing had happened, making Austria sigh. He walks over to her almost like a game of cat and mouse is being played. "I do hope that you are happy on this joyous occasion! "

"Of course I am, darling. We're having a christening for our newborn son who is going to fulfill all the dreams you crushed!" Austria says almost excitedly when a few of the marble columns explode into a fantastic array of shades of red. A man walks through the flames smiling darkly.

"Hello dear brother of mine." He says, calmly, like the flames weren't smoldering behind him. "How's the little shitbag?"

"Do you have to destroy my home every time you come here?"

"Do you even have to ask that?" Prussia asks and waltzes over to Hungary. "So back to my question how's the little shitbag?" He looks over at Austria then back to the mother and child both of which don't look happy anymore.

"Fantastic," spits out Hungary. "He'll be much better when you're gone." America laughs, a sweet, clear sound, and his mother's face softens. Roderich walks closer to his son with a look of adoration on his face, reaching out his hand toward his blonde infant. America grips his pointer finger tightly and smiles.

"Wow, bro. You've gone soft," Prussia says softly, almost sweetly, like a cobra facing a mouse when he knows the animal is cornered. "You have a wife and a baby, and all you care about is them. What about your own brother, Rod? Your only brother, whom you banished to the underworld." A look of pain crosses the older man's face.

"It... It was for the best, Prussia. You would have destroyed the earth. Destroyed everyone. I had to do it." Prussia's lip curls into a snarl, but there is grief in his eyes.

"I see. So you would choose them over me. You would leave your own brother, the boy you grew up with, to rot in a stinking hell. Well, I'm not a boy any more. And someday, you're going to regret it, brother. Someday, I'm going to make you pay." He turns on his heel and vanishes in another explosion. The last glimpse of him is of tears brimming in his eyes, which he brushes angrily away. Austria's face crumples slightly and Hungary places a hand on his arm.

---

Prussia sighs, leaning back in his boat as it lazily floats down the River Styx. He tosses a steak to his hellhounds and watches the fight over it emerge, not particularly entertained.

"It was for the best? Choosing those damn humans over me?!" He shouts, and sighs. "Can love a woman and have a child but can't even keep ties with me?" He whispers, tears stinging his eyes, threatening to pour over. With all his might he contains them until the boat stops having bumped against land. He stands up, trying to compose himself and steps off the boat being greeted by one of his imps.

"Hi Prussia-sama!" He shouts rather loudly. "Are you sad?" This statement earns him a half-assed glare. "I picked a flower for you." He says, hoping the gesture will reach Prussia.

"Italy…" He says, the tiniest of smiles emerging from his face as he takes the flower.

"Oh! And The Fates are here!" Italy says cheerily. This breaks Prussia's smile and forces him back to his usual behavior.

"HOW DARE YOU BRING ME A FLOWER!?" He snarls, the imp backs away a little, afraid of his rage. "WHY DIDN'T YOU TELL ME THE FATES WERE HERE? AND WHERE IS FRANCE?!"

"I… gave you the flower to cheer you up." He whimpers, trying to buy France time to rush over. "And… I thought that The Fates wouldn't like to see you upset."

"Well you were wrong. WRONG. I'm not upset. NOT. You're WRONG," He says, a bad attempt at a cover-up. He sees France come from the corner of his eye and turns his attention to him. "Where were you?"

"Talking to a lovely madmoiselle!" France says with a wink. Prussia rolls his eyes and kicks him, feeling his in-control attitude returning. "What was that for?"

"For being obscenely stupid. Now come on. We've already kept the fates waiting, and patience isn't one of their virtues." He walks into his castle, hearing Italy bounce cheerfully after him and France grumbling sourly. They reach the study and Prussia throws the door open.

"You're late," remarks Estonia tartly.

"VERY late," echoes Lithuania.

"It could have been an accident," supplies Latvia in Prussia's defence. He is ignored.

"I know. I had to visit my brother and –"

"We know." Latvia sighs, rolling his eyes.

"You see he had a shitbag… I mean a child and I thought I should-"

"We know!" Lithuania says not wanting to hear what he already knows.

"I know you do!" Prussia snarls. "But this kid is just like the humans –"

"WE KNOW YOUR FEELINGS ON THE CHILD!" Estonia cuts in. "And we know what you want. We do see into the past-"

"Present." Lithuania chimes in.

"And future." Latvia finishes. "Now may be please speak?" This got attention.

"In eighteen years. The planets will align, in such a wonderful way." Estonia starts, letting Lithuania take over.

"It will be the time to release the Titians!" He exclaims, putting a smile on Prussia's face.

"I'm starting to like this plan." He says, looking over at Italy and France briefly who were both looking at each other, smiling.

"And your beloved brother Austria will fall and answer to you!" Latvia says, getting excited.

"YES! FINALLY!" Prussia shouts, scaring Italy momentarily.

"But there is a catch."Estonia cuts in.

"Oh isn't there always?" He snarls, calming down a bit. "Well what is it?"

"If America rises and fights, you are destined to fail." Lithuania remarks in an almost hushed tone before the three of them pop away.

"If that twerp does WHAT?!" He asks, and looks over at his imps, breathing heavily.

"I believe they said fight," Italy pipes up, hand raised. "But we just have to make it so he doesn't!"

"And the only way he would do that is how?"

"Oh! If we kill him." France says, proud of himself.

"And how do we kill a god my idiotic little minions?"

"Making him mortal?" Italy asks, hesitantly.

"Exactly." Prussia says, smiling darkly.

**A/N: It's Cork and Spazzkitty(the author who loves you all more than her socks! And she loves them an awful lot!) We are pleased to bring you the first chapter. Sorry for the wait it's stressful over here in the Cork house hold and Spazzkitty has plenty on fanfics to write to keep you all happy. More will be coming. See you next time!**


	3. Chapter 2 ISN'T THIS TITLE EXCITING!

Chapter 2

Italy and France tip-toe their way through the clouds of Mt Olympus, Italy staring at all the things he has never seen before and France focuses intently as to not mess things up.

"Hey France," Italy shouts, pointing to a small cloud filled with many different things that one would assume to be gifts for the newborn son of Austria and Hungary. "Do you think he's on that one?" He asks walking over to it.

"I guess…" France whispers before catching up to Italy. "And be quiet! We can't mess this up for Prussia." Italy nodded and tries to walk quieter, carefully not stepping on anything until he sees the child.

"France it's him," He whispers loudly. "I see him!!!!" France rolls his eyes and grabs the child's upper half, putting a hand over his mouth. America wakes up, looking at the pair of them with huge blue eyes, and squirming under France's grip. France suddenly lets out a half-shriek and lets go of the baby.

"What's wrong?" Italy hisses, his brown eyes wide with fear.

"He licked my hand! LICKED it! Babies are so revolting!" France's nose is wrinkled in distaste and he waves his hand around, sending little droplets of baby drool everywhere.

"Aww, he's so cute, France!" Italy exclaims, leaning forward and tickling the infant's stomach. America giggles sweetly, and Italy beams, pulling the child into a hug. "He's _giggling_, France! Have you ever heard anything more adorable?"

"Nasty little drool-bucket, that's all he is!" France retorts sourly, wiping his hand on Italy's shirt. "Are we getting on with this, or are we doing to stand here fawning over a laughing spit-child?"

"Isn't it obvious? HE'S ADORABLE!" Italy shrieks, getting France's drool-free hand over his mouth in return, though that didn't stop him from going on about the baby, though no one can understand him.

"We'll be seen so would you take the disgusting baby, and help me bring him down to earth?" France says, clearly irritated by this point. Italy nods slowly and France removes his hand from the other imps mouth.

"HE IS NOT DISGUSTING," Italy shouts but picked up America nonetheless. "But he's very heavy!" Italy says, almost dropping him.

"It's because of all that drool! It weighs him down like a ball and chain!" France declares, picking him up by the legs this time having Italy pick up the upper half this time around. The two scamper off, groaning quietly over America, who is being held between them like a slab of extremely heavy beef.

In his bedroom, Austria blinks awake. He feels the icy grip of terror seize him, though he doesn't know why. He turns to his wife, shaking her lightly.

"Hungary. Hungary, darling. Wake up." Hungary turns to face him, then begins to say something. He is relieved-until he hears what she's saying.

"Screw you, Charmander! You'll never defeat my Pikachu! Pikachu! THUNDERBOLT!"

"…Dearest, have you been watching Japanese cartoons again?"

"It's TEAM ROCKET!" Hungary screeches by way of response. "They want to STEAL MY ZAPDOS!" She gropes blindly for her frying pan on her bedside table, finally finding it and whacking her husband full in the face. He slumps back onto the bed, unconscious, and Hungary turns over, muttering "Team Rocket's blasting off again," in a very satisfied way. So Italy and France managed to get to Earth without being pursued.

"Finally we get to put the damn porker down!" France whines, once on solid ground. He drops his half of the child without care. This makes Italy scream.

"YOU'RE HURTING THIS CHILD! DON'T YOU DARE HURT ONE LITTLE HAIR ON HIS ADORABLE HEAD OR I'LL TELL PRUSSIA ON YOU!!!" He shouts, trying to be as threatening as possible.

"Yeah like Prussia would care about me hurting the kid he told us to kill!"

"He would too!" Italy shouts. France shoves the drool covered hand in Italy's face. Italy jumps back, screeching like a banshee combined with a howler monkey.

"BE QUIET," France shouts, instantly shutting Italy up. "Do you have the bottle," A nod. "Feed him it, would you?"

"Not until you apologize to me and the baby!"

"What if I'm not sorry?" France challenges him. He rolls his eyes when he sees his partner's bottom lip jut out. "Fine. I'm sorry, Italy."

"AND the baby."

"I'm sorry, drool-monkey. Better?"

"NO. Call him America, acause that's his name."

"…I'm sorry, America." Italy smiles hugely and reaches into his pocket for the bottle. France takes the opportunity to make a lot of rude faces at the infant behind the other's back. America blinks for a moment, before smirking (France didn't know babies _could_ smirk) and blowing a bubble of spit threateningly. France pales and shuts up.

"Here it is!" cries Italy, finding a pink bottle with a picture of a dancing cow on it. France rolls his eyes.

"That is NOT the bottle."

"I know, but I bought a cuter one! See the little cow? He's dancing! Isn't it fantastic?"

"NO!"

"You're being obtuse!!"

"Do you even KNOW what that means," France demands, Italy pouts and shakes his head no after thinking for a while about whether or not to respond. "Thought not." Italy pouts and sits down, pulling America into his lap and began feeding the child.

"I'M A MOMMY FRANCE!!! LOOK!!!!"

"Why did I get this thing for my partner?" France groans. "Why couldn't I get a hot girl instead? Or even a hot guy?" Italy ignored him, crooning sweetly to the baby.

"That's a good boy! Drink it all up! Is it nummy, America? Does you like it? Oh DOES YOU?"

"It doesn't matter if he likes it, as we're going to kill him," points out France.

"I know that," Italy mutters unconvincingly, brushing a kiss against the baby's forehead. France looks at him skeptically. Just then, a dog barks and Italy screams bloody murder.

"DOGS! DOGS! THEY'RE COMING TO GET ME, FRANCE! THEY'RE COMING TO KILL ME WITH THEIR SHARP FANGS AND SLOBBERY TONGUES!"

France panics as well, thinking of how difficult it will be to stomach dog spit all over his clothes. Sensing his 'Mother' is upset, America spits out a mouthful of formula (which lands on a disgusted France) and begins to bawl.

"Shh, shh, It's okay!" Italy tries to comfort frantically, shrieking again when a dog's white muzzle pokes out from behind a tree far away. He looks around in panic for a few more seconds, before running off and climbing a tree like some stupid cat. France follows, yelling at him. The dog scampers up to America, who is still crying obnoxiously, and licks his face. America's sobs turn to hiccups, and he blinks in surprise at the dog, before a little smile breaks across his tearstained face.

"Su-san, tell Hanatamago to heel! He listens to you!" A voice cried. A blonde jogged through the trees, freezing when he saw a baby hugging the small white dog with an expression of pure bliss. "Oh my god. It's a baby!"

Another blonde comes through the maze of forest to see the other man cradling a random, somewhat pudgy infant. "…What're yuh doin', F'nland?"

"Su-san, it's a BABY!" He squeals in delight. He cradles the infant closer to him. "Can we keep him, please? PLEASE?"

"S'not a dog, F'nland." Su-san says, raising his eyebrows.

"I know, it's a baby! A cute baby! Oh, Su-san, I've always wanted to be a daddy!"

"…But y're m' wife. So you'd be th' Mom."

--

You nod as Spain sighs, obviously upset by the tale he was sharing. Until he looks over to the other muses and nods himself.

"Young America was mortal now. But since he did not drink the last drop, he still retained his godlike strength. So thank his lucky star" Spain starts, knowing the others would soon jump in during the next verse.

"But Austria and Hungary wept, because their son could never come home. They'd have to watch their precious baby grow up from afar. Though Prussia's horrid plan was hatched before America cut his first tooth. The boy grew stronger ev'ry day and that's the gospel truth."

**A/N ** _**It's Cork, who loves you all very much and stares at your reviews for motivation… isn't that sad?**_** AND -drumroll- Spazzkitty, who's actually here for the author's note, which doesn't often happen. Weird, huh? =D Anyway, We don't own this shit. And Hungary is totally an Electric-type pokemon trainer. BTW. **_**YOU SAID A BAD WORD SPAZZ! THAT AIN'T OK! IT DOESN'T FLY HERE!..... Who the hell am I kidding I have the mouth of sailor! **_**Ha, you think that's bad? Wait for Romano. BWAHAHAHA! **_**OH NOES THE INNOCENCE OF THE READERS THAT PROBABLY DOESN'T EXIST ANYWAYS!**_


	4. Bonus! Prussia Letter!

**A/N Cork here with a little bonus for you guys that are ready to stab us for not updating! So here's a lame excuse that no one wants to hear but we are both VERY sorry Spazz just got a new job and has been rockin' the AP classes. Thus she is very very busy! I have been moderately busy in comparison but we'll see how life takes me in the next few weeks. SO ANYWAYS WE ARE BOTH SO SORRY! Here's the letter Prussia wrote to Austria that you never saw, so enjoy and we will hopefully be updating soon! Cork, OUT!**

Dear Austria the LOSER,  
I heard you've got a kid now. Way to fuckin GO, man. Your wife already has you more whipped than a freakin bull terrier, and now you're raising a little brat. I hope you know all they do is cry and shit. And shit while they cry. But whatever. Your funeral.  
Speaking of Hungary, how is the bitch? Is she still on a constant PMS? Why didn't you marry some hot chick who WASN'T psychotic? Then again, could you get one? You don't have five meters like me.  
Anyway, enjoy your shitbag kid. I hope he drops dead. And no, I'm not changing diapers.  
Yours awesomely,  
The kickass Prussia


	5. Chapter 3, finally

Chapter 3

Sweden clings desperately to the seat of his cart, wearing his expression of utmost terror (often mistaken for his "I'm going to kill you, fuckface" grimace). Next to him, whooping delightedly, is his sixteen-year-old son, America, clutching the donkeys reigns with his BRAND NEW cart-driving permit displayed proudly.

"Dad, check this out! I think I can make 'er go FASTER," After a moment of terrified silence he adds. "THAT'S WHAT SHE SAID! ... Get it Dad?! If someone were ha-"

"Yes! Now ge' yer eyes on t'e roa'!" Sweden shouts, clutching at the side of the cart so he wouldn't launch over the front to his death. He turns his head slightly to look at America briefly who was grinning like an idiot.

"But that's boring!"

Swedens life briefly flashes before his eyes, and he spends some fond time reliving the moment when a delighted Finland accepted his marriage proposal.

"STOP TH' CART," He bellows. A shocked America yanks on the reigns and the donkey skids to a stop. "Thank you." He growls.

"Come on Dad. That was fun and you know it," America says and steps off, Sweden lets go of his death grip and jumps down. "So where are we gonna put the-"

"Yeh sta' by th' cart," Sweden says and frowns when he sees a pair of eyes roll. "I me'n it t'is time." He snaps sternly hoping he will get through to him for once.

"Yeah I got… stay by the cart. Because no one wants to be around the freak of nature you have for a son." He whines with a sigh, trying to guilt Sweden into letting him come along. He puts on the kicked puppy look that he learned from Hanatamango over the years.

"Yeh know tha' isn' tr'e," Sweden replies, a bit softer now. "Yer no' a frea' jus' dunno yer own stren'th issall…"

"Yeah, yeah," He says and shakes his head, frowning. "It's not that I don't know my own strength," the blonde corrects, his eyes brooding. "Everyone knows my strength. I just know it too well." Sweden steps forward and ruffles his son's unruly blonde hair, placing a somewhat awkward kiss to the top of his head.  
"Y'll gr'w 'nto it," is all he says. "Y'r m'th'r an' I l've you 'nyway, you know."  
"I know, Dad," America says, a small, fragile smile flickering across his face. "Go buy your donkey shit or whatever. I'll wait here."  
"W'tch y'r l'nguage," he teases, giving his son a final wave and loping off.

"A minute or two wouldn't hurt right?" He asks looking over his shoulder to the now traumatized Hanatamango who only stands up carefully as if the cart can start up at breakneck speeds again. America takes a moment to stare at the dog like he expects a reply, he looks over at the few people his age either working or socializing like he should be and leans back, sighing.

"HEY AMERICA," He looks up and mentally groans, not wanting to deal with the people who were grinning at him. "WHO'S THE DOG, YOU OR HANATAMANGO?" He tries not to cringe but only looks up putting on his best prideful grin.

"Very funny Turkey!" He says and begins to laugh along with the group. America silently wishes he never asked to come along so he could drive the cart, just to avoid the awkward confrontations with one of the few people who actually like to make their unhappiness of America's existence known frequently. "How long did it take you to think of that one?"

"Not as long as it took to realize how ugly you're face is!" A few chuckles come from the group and Turkey's already large smirk grows, which leads America to wonder how large it can get before expanding off of his face. "Hey! I'm talking to you! Pay attention!"

"Huh…?"

"What're you stupider than I thought?" He asks and watches as America's once cool temper begins to rise to temperatures such as that of the sun. Before he can even realize what he was doing a rock is picked up and thrown while the phrase 'Oh shit' is repeated over and over again in America's head.

Turkey watches it whizz by his head and slam into a rather large and most likely expensive jar, which instantly shattered into millions of pieces. "You're dead, freak, you know that?" He snaps, turning redder and redder.

"…'xc'se me?" A dangerously quiet voice asks. The boys turned around to find Sweden glowering at them, actually wearing his "I'm going to kill you, fuckface" grimace this time. "Wh't did ya jus' say 'bou' m' son?

"N-nothing, sir," Turkey stammers, backing up slightly. America notes that none of them are laughing anymore, but this didn't make him feel any prouder.

"Dad, I got it," he mumbles, looking at his feet and turning red.

"B't son…"

"I got it, Dad," America says louder. He looks close to tears.

"Let's just go guys," says Turkey sourly. "Lucky your dad was here to save you this time, freak!" He turns and strolls off cockily with his gang, leaving the father and son pair behind.

"Why did you do that, Dad?" the boy asks sadly, not meeting his eyes. "They were just playing around."

"B't…'merica…"

"They already think I'm enough of a freak without you helping!" he snaps suddenly, his lower lip quivering. "You don't need to defend me, dad! I don't need any help being a loser. I can do it on my own." Sweden reaches out a hand for his son, but he brushes it away. He ignores Hanatamago, who laps comfortingly at his hand. "Let's just go home," he mutters, turning back towards the cart.

---

"Wasn't that so sad?!" Sealand shouts blowing his nose obnoxiously loud and tosses the tissue to the side where it lands next to a depressed Canada who tries to inch away from it not knowing if there was actually mucus in the middle of it.

You silently wonder what happens next but don't want to interrupt for fear you'll get snapped at like you did when you were in first grade and couldn't hold your question until the end. Switzerland looks up at you and notices the uncomfortable silence.

"You guys remember that guy who trained America… can we just skip that part of the story?"

"NO!" Spain shouts seeming to melt on the spot. "He was so cu-"

"Annoying!" Sealand interjects.

"How could you say that about such a dreamboat!?" Spain asks looking more hurt than he was shocked. You don't doubt that a conversation like this happens often.

"Dream boat? You only say that cause…" Sealand trails off looking scandalized then finishes in a lower tone. "You played… tonsil hockey." You blink in surprise but try not to upset Spain who only drifts off into his own little world completely smitten.

"Oh…. Romano. He was just…" Spain trails off with a sigh.

"Can I tell it now?!" Sealand shouts after a moment of the most uncomfortable silence you've sat through.

"No." Switzerland, Russia and the still ignored Canada say in unison.

"I'll tell it," says Canada as the others continue to bicker. You smile at him as his eyes shine with empathy, both for you listening to them and for America. "That evening found America overlooking the sea, with a downtrodden spirit and tears on his face..."

**A/N: **OH NO, CORK. WE PUT SPOLIERS THAR D=

**NOOOOESSSS!!! WAI WAI!?**

...Because maybe then they readers won't kill us?

**Oh yeah cause we are so epically LATE on this chapter?**

...TAKE CORK AS A HUMAN SACRIFICE -flees-

**HOW COULD YOU!? *runs after Spazz and drags her back* Let's apologize CORRECTLY for this!**

NEVER! EAT HER, NOT ME! EAT HER, NOT MEEEEE!!

**JUST HELP ME SAY SORRY!**

...YOU DO IT -sulks-

**So... here are the reasons. School, it sucks our time down to nothing. Then there was that whole NaNo WriMo thing that I epcially failed at BTW and... One Acts... let's not go there. So we're really sorry we kind of didn't update sooner we're kind of... GIANT SLACKERS SOMETIMES *sulks next to Spazz***

There's your apology, dearest readers. And if you still love us or forgive us, you'll review. Don't leave Al crying like that! D=


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